That night Owen rose from the task at which he was labouring slowly and
painfully--a translation of passages from the Gospel of St. John into
the language of the Amasuka--and going to the open window-place of the
hut, he rested his elbows upon it and thought, staring with empty eyes
into the blackness of the night. Now it was as he sat thus that a great
agony of doubt took possession of his soul. The strength which hitherto
had supported him seemed to be withdrawn, and he was left, as John
had said, "quite alone." Strange voices seemed to whisper in his ears,
reproaching and reviling him; temptations long ago trampled under foot
rose again in might, alluring him.

"Fool," said the voices, "get you hence before it is too late. You have
been mad; you who dreamed that for your sake, to satisfy your pride, the
Almighty will break His silence and strain His law. Are you then better,
or greater, or purer than millions who have gone before you, that for
you and you alone this thing should be done? Why, were it not that you
are mad, you would be among the chief of sinners; you who dare to ask
that the Powers of Heaven should be set within your feeble hand, that
the Angels of Heaven should wait upon your mortal breath. Worm that you
are, has God need of such as you? If it is His will to turn the heart
of yonder people He will do it, but not by means of _you_. You and the
servant whom you are deluding to his death will perish miserably, and
this alone shall be the fruit of your presumptuous sin. Get you back out
of this wilderness before the madness takes you afresh. You are still
young, you have wealth; look where She stands yonder whom you desire.
Get you back, and forget your folly in her arms."

These thoughts, and many others of like nature, tore Owen's soul in
that hour of strange and terrible temptation. He seemed to see himself
standing before the thousands of the savage nation he went to save, and